Fool of Fools
by Gone2GroundEX
Summary: One year after Grima's destruction, Alysa (F!Avatar) gets an unwelcome letter from Gangrel begging for help in restoring Plegia into something vaguely resembling an actual country. The constant backstabbing of Plegia's nobles, multiple cases of PTSD and doubts about Alysa's future don't exactly help either. WARNING: CH7 gets pretty intense. Thou have been warned.
1. Chapter 1

**Fool of Fools**

**Rated K+**

* * *

Gangrel's fingers drummed against the arm of his throne for the thousandth time as he glared at the message in front of him.

_Not on your life._

_- Aversa_

Sighing, the king swept away the offending letter – imagine, sending twelve pieces of paper wrapped up in a parcel to get a man all excited and then having such a short message on the first, leaving the rest blank – and sank back, groaning. He really needed Aversa to come back, he hadn't realized what a mess he'd made of his country during his temporary revenge-hungry madness.

Validar hadn't been much help, either. In fact, Gangrel took some solace that his council of back-stabbing viziers and minor nobles admitted that at the very least he wasn't as bad as Validar was at keeping the nation running.

"Score one for the Mad King." He chuckled to himself with a wry grin, glancing around the empty room. The irony of how the back-stabbing woman was the one thing that kept the country running. Unfortunately, he'd need a mind of her caliber to even get it back into something vaguely resembling a united province, because at the moment every village seemed to have their own government.

There were no other minds of her caliber...although there was one _better _in every respect. Although that wasn't an option, the _woman_ had made it very clear she didn't want anything to do with him. Still, it _was _her birthright, and it's not like Chrom didn't have enough other minds...maybe he could convince her that it's the only way to avoid civil war.

Maybe. Well, it was worth a shot. What's the worst that could happen? After all, he'd already died once.

"Keh."

He picked up the eleven blank pieces of paper that had come with Aversa's reply – really, how _rude _ - and started to write.

* * *

"Alysa, there's mail for you."

The tactician blinked awake, looked Frederick in the face for a few seconds, and processed where she was.

"...Frederick?"

"Yes, milady?"

"Get the hell out of my room?"

"Of course, milady."

The knight retreated hastily, leaving the large stack of paper on her bedside table. The woman groaned, pulling her light blue hair behind her ears and lighting a candle.

"Gods, what time is it?" She muttered, glancing out the window to see the moon still high in the sky. "...does the man ever sleep?"

Probably not, she decided. One of these days, Cordelia was going to kill him, and she wouldn't be surprised.

What could surprise her, however, was the incredibly distinctive handwriting that started the letter. Alysa dropped the papers in shock, and briefly considered throwing them into a fire. Realizing that she probably wasn't getting any sleep anyway, she decided to just read the damn thing.

_Alysa_

_This is probably the last thing you wanted to see, so I won't bother with the pleasantries. I need you to come to Plegia and help me rule._

Alysa blinked, rereading that last sentence.

_Come to Plegia and help me rule. _

_**Help me rule.**_

Alysa gave a disbelieving snort that rapidly evolved into full-out laughter. She briefly skimmed the next few pages, and her laughter eventually gave way to a concerned frown. While she wouldn't exactly count the Mad King among her friends, he had served alongside them in the final battle against Grima – he had even saved her life during their confrontations at the Wellspring of Truth. It was quite shocking, in fact, to see the old Gangrel – all cruel laughter and crazed smiles – fight this new Gangrel, full of melancholy and regret. Despite the differences that had been made amazingly clear during that battle, none of the Shepherds truly believed the man had changed that much, although Emmeryn had forgiven him. Alysa suspected that was more Emmeryn's nature more than anything else, however.

Flashing forwards to now, and Gangrel had sent them a report of his nation's status that was worse than anything the court could have imagined, and they'd imagined some pretty far-end situations. Alysa groaned, realizing what she had to do at this point, no matter how little she liked the idea.

"...I _hate _the desert." She grumbled, stuffing the letter aside and pulling the blanket back over her shoulders. She'd have to bring this up at the small council tomorrow, although if she knew Chrom in the slightest at this point he'd probably say -

* * *

"Absolutely _not_!"  
- yes, that seemed about right. Alysa sighed, brushing her bang away from her left eye so she could glare Chrom full in the face.

"There's no other options. Chrom, if what Gangrel has said about Plegia is even remotely true, he needs me."

"He doesn't need you, he needs your mind." Lon'qu rumbled, disturbed by the message. "He wouldn't appreciate you for anything else."

"My mind might be the only thing that could save that entire nation from plummeting into recession and civil war." Alysa shot back angrily. "At the very least, let me advise him!"

"Ylisse needs repair too." Chrom protested weakly, trying to find some ground to face her on. "If you leave, who's supposed to help it grow?"

"Chrom, Ylisse is stable." Alysa said with a frown. "A trade relationship with only one nation – a nation whose ruler may change at any time – isn't enough for it to grow. We need a stable second partner if we're to have any chance of becoming more than we were at the start of the first war."

It was amazing how quickly Alysa had changed to referring to Ylisse as 'we' and 'us' instead of 'you'. Chrom sighed, sinking back in his chair and rubbing his forehead.

"Gods, why do I even try to argue with you? You're worse than Sumia sometimes." He groaned, closing his eyes. "...will you at least take an escort with you?"  
"Chrom, I'm generous, not stupid." Alysa said with a small smile. "I'll be taking Stahl, Sully, Kjelle and Laurent with me."

"Good, I suppose you should tell them." Frederick said with a nod, approving of her choices. "Now, I shall go tell them to prepare."

At that moment, Sully stuck her head through the door. "What the hell is taking you so long? We've been waiting to go for the last damn hour now!"

Chrom stared at Alysa, who smiled sweetly at him. "I knew you'd say yes."

Chrom massaged his temples in submission, sighing. "...sometimes I think you know me better than my wife does, Alysa. That scares me." He said truthfully. "Write to us every week or we'll assume something bad has happened and invade."

Alysa nodded in confirmation, saluted, and walked out of the room. Frederick glanced at her retreating back, frowning.

"She's changed." He said bluntly as soon as the woman was gone. Chrom nodded in agreement.

"Morgan's death was hard on her." He said bluntly, leaning back in his chair. "She never did find his father, either."

"Hm." Frederick said with a sigh. "You don't suppose this might be an attempt to distract herself from it?"

"Frederick...everything Alysa does these days is an attempt to distract herself from his death." Chrom rose from his chair. "Council adjourned, we all have other duties."

* * *

A/N: Okay, explanation: What was meant to be a reward one-shot quickly seemed to evolve into something much more than that. Writing M!MU for months on end made me curious as to trying my hand at a F!MU, and Asleep (Which I really need to update at this point) has entered the stage of 'Intense Advance Planning' to make sure I don't cock up and miss a plot point. Which means going back over previous chapters with a fine comb to check that I'm not going to plot hole myself because I threw in a line that I though was funny that doesn't fit with the current plot arc.

Also, I needed to write something darker after the teeth-rotting sweetness of the Time Matters Not wedding arc. Speaking of, if anyone's got any ideas for a chapter they want to see in there, drop me a line - I'm running short but don't want to stop the fic. I could do with a buffer of plot ideas.


	2. Chapter 2

**Fool of Fools**

**Rated K+**

* * *

_Grima's mages pelted them with fire and shadow as she tried desperately to get to her alter-ego and stop this madness. Her son - her precious son, the one thing she held most dear in the world - fought alongside her, casting the occasional glance towards Lucina and Chrom only a few feet away. She should probably have words about his intentions towards her best friend's daughter at some point in the future, although this certainly wasn't the time. Something flickered through Morgan's eyes - regret? pity? sorrow? she would never have a chance to know now - as he glanced at Lucina, and then -_

Alysa awoke with a start, drenched in sweat that had nothing to do with the desert heat of today's march. Groaning, she rubbed her eyes and sat up.

"That dream again..."

A small part of her heart, which normally lay dead in her chest, was hurting again, as it always did whenever she remembered her son. It was kind of silly, in a way – she'd only knew the boy for a few weeks, never discovered who his father was, and yet when he'd gone and – it was no use thinking about it. Thinking about it made the pain worse. Sighing, she got up to go relieve the watch from whoever was currently doing it.

"You shouldn't be up." Laurent said with a cough from next to the fire. "The human mind requires at least five hours of high quality sleep to function correctly, with the optimal amount of time to rest at seven."

"I'm aware, Laurent. Your mother gave me the same lecture before." She spat, irritated. She cursed inwardly as Laurent flinched. "I'm sorry, that was stupid of me."

"...don't worry about it." Laurent said with a small smile. "I've gotten used to her being gone. It never goes away, but-"

"-but it does get better, even slightly. Right?" Alysa said, trying to appear casual. Laurent's sympathetic glance showed that he'd seen through the act and saw the begging behind it.

"Yes, slightly." He nodded. They stood there in an awkward silence for a few more moments before Laurnet turned to leave. "Maybe I should follow my own advice."

"...thank you." Alysa said softly as he walked away. Groaning, she turned to stare out into the desert and distract herself with thoughts of what she'll be doing for the better part of a year.

_Individual villages have all resorted to a self-sustaining economy. _She sighed. The only real solution to that was to encourage trade between different regions, but in order to do that...

_Roads have fallen into disrepair and there's a gang of bandits at every intersection. _Naturally, patrols and workcrews would be required. Unfortunately...

_The army has been reduced to a fraction of what it once was_ Her solution would be to hire more people, but in order to do that they'd need money.

_The royal coffers barely support the capital never mind an army. _So, hiring mercenaries as a short-term solution was out, too. Now, how could she boost the coffers?

_Worldwide trade requires a solid internal economy_ Oh. Well, none of these problems can be solved immediately. There had to be some kind of loophole she could abuse in whatever manner Plegia used to distribute its wealth, although if she tried to raise taxes without an organization – say, an army, which she didn't have – to enforce and monitor the situation it wouldn't change anything. In fact, it might just trigger a riot.

"Blast." She sighed. "Well, at least the individual villages can survive on their own right now..."

* * *

Gangrel frowned at the messenger he'd sent to Ferox. The wyvern rider stood as straight as he could with a black eye, a limp and some missing teeth.

"So...wild guess, Flavia isn't helping anytime soon." Gangrel sighed in disgust. "Wonderful. Go get yourself healed."

The rider blinked in surprise – he'd honestly expected to be executed for failure – saluted, and walked out of the room. Gangrel checked the throne room was empty before standing up, walking over to a nearby pillar, and repeatedly slamming his head against it.

"Uh...milord?"

"What is it?" He snarled, turning towards the new arrival who, arm shaking, extended a piece of paper.

_I'm on my way. Chrom wants it perfectly clear that if you try anything strange he will invade. Don't think of this as a favor, I'm just not going to let your people suffer because of your sheer incompetence anymore. _

_-Alysa_

Gangrel let out a brief bark of laughter, allowing a small grin on his face for the first time in months. "Finally, some good news. Go on then, get out of here."

The messenger saluted and rapidly left the room before Gangrel's suspiciously good mood had the opportunity to change into something else. The Mad King's grin grew larger when the room was empty, finally feeling able to let himself go.

"Ke...KEHAHAHAHAAAAAA!"

Arms thrust into the air, the Mad King did a little jig in his excitement. "It WORKED! I'm SAVED! KEHAHAHA!"

Snapping his ermine cloak on and grabbing his crown, he skipped off in search of his court nobles. Backstabbing power-hungry morons that they were, they were still the representatives of his people and deserved to know the events that were coming.

The two guards outside fell into formation behind their king as he headed off, not entirely sure if his sudden reversion to his old self was good news or not. Hopefully, he hadn't fallen back into full crazy again.

* * *

Lord Ilyrio was having a bad day. The middle-aged and balding man had been informed that his village had been unable to pay the bandits which had been demanding protection money on top of the regular taxes, so the bandits had – naturally – decided the correct course of action was to BURN THE VILLAGE TO THE GROUND.

So, now he wasn't getting any extortion money _or _tax revenue. Retiring to an early bed, he found himself roused only an hour later as a servant anxiously explained that Gangrel was calling a meeting of the Small Council. Said servant also mentioned that Gangrel was in a good mood.

The last time Gangrel had been in a good mood they had declared war on the rest of the continent, and Ilyrio was lucky to have made it out of that alive. He'd had to resorted to hiding when Validar demanded that everyone head to The Dragon's Table, fearing that the religious nutcase might have plans to perform a mass sacrifice of some sort.

He'd come out of that situation expecting to assume ruler-ship of Plegia as the highest-positioned noble remaining, and had been displeased to find that most of the other nobles had the same idea he had.

Although he would admit that he enjoyed the look on their faces when Gangrel just strode into the throne room one day, grabbed the crown and scepter from a stunned servant, and plopped down in the throne with a fake smirk. He'd have enjoyed them more if he hadn't been seething with rage at that point.

Still, Plegia could only take so much before there were mass revolts to get rid of the king once more. If he had to speed the process along by destroying his own territories, then so be it. Those revolutionaries would surely look for a commander, and the one noble who'd truly been a 'victim' would be a natural choice...yes, with this plan and Gangrel's own incompetence at anything other than ruling through sheer charisma – the majority of which he'd lost when he returned from the dead – he'd find himself ruling in no time.

Taking a sip of his wine as the last noble – this one a thin lad who had only just come of age by the name of Orpheus – entered the room with a panted apology, sweat running down his face, he smiled at the thought of his surely imminent victory.

"Well, now that we're all here..." Gangrel said with a grin, some of the old charisma coming through. "I've brought in someone to help with the restoration. She's quite the genius, and I'm sure if anyone can put us back together again it'll be the woman who put us here in the first place."

Ilyrio froze and carefully put his glass down before his grip tightened and shattered the delicate crystal. "My lord?"

"Ilyrio. What's your question?" Gangrel nodded towards the lord, still pleased with himself.

"Did you really invite Alysa Stormbringer to our court?" He asked tightly, crossing his hands over his face. Gangrel grinned at him.

"I assure you, she's nicer than you think. Just don't irritate her, she has a tendency to obliterate people that irritate her."

Ilyrio gritted his teeth as he felt his plans fall to shreds at his feet. He'd have to work around this new obstacle.

Yes, he certainly was having a bad day.

* * *

A/N: So, the plan for this fic is 1000~ words a day until it's done, and to have each chapter contain a Gangrel segment, a Robin/Alysa segment and a Tertiary Character (One of the council members, Chrom, etc.) segment. For the record? This is not the happy everyone lived ending that you're familiar with in Time Matters Not. The basis for this was my first shot at Hard Classic No Resets, and people died. A lot. I think about half the cast was left by the end (Look, I hadn't played an FE game for years, and in my defense it was no resets). Estimated Length: Fifteen or so chapters. Current Bodycount: Miriel, Morgan.


	3. Chapter 3

**Fool of Fools**

**Rated K+**

* * *

Alysa repressed a shudder as she walked past Grima's skull, biting her lip to prevent her screaming.

_The first thing I'm doing once I sort this country out is making sure that thing gets destroyed _she thought bitterly, glaring at it. _You took everything from me._

She almost jumped out of her skin when Stahl's hand clamped around her shoulder, the paladin's eyes full of concern. "Are you alright?"

"I'm...fine." She spat, wrenching her eyes away from the skull. "Don't worry about me. We're almost there."

Stahl shared a worried glance with his wife and daughter before sighing and nudging his horse along to follow the tactician. Her mood grew worse and worse as she approached the castle doors, to the point where the smoldering glare she sent the guards at the gates was sufficient proof when they asked her identity.

Stahl had never seen someone open a door that fast. The tactician stalked through the streets, eyes flickering back and forth as she absorbed every small detail about the place – _stalls rundown street urchins everywhere ill people in the corner prices too high rampant thievery guards not stopping thieves corr__**uption**__ – _to the point where she had to stop, close her eyes, and take a few deep breaths before continuing the rest of the way to Castle Plegia.

Gangrel had a hell of a lot of explaining to do if his own capital was in this much of a mess. Her mind, preoccupied as it was, did miss out one small detail – all of the grumblings in the street were directed at other nobles, not Gangrel, and there was a faint feeling of hope permeating the air.

Arriving at the doors to the castle proper, the wyvern rider standing guard – why did he have a black eye? - opened the gate for her. Storming inside, she grabbed a servant and demanded he take her to Gangrel.

"He's...in a meeting?" The servant stammered, eyes wide with fear. Alysa's scowl grew fiercer.

"With _who_?"

"The nobles." The servant squealed, pushing his back up against a wall. Alysa's scowl changed into a fierce grin.

"Really now? Well, take me to them."

"But Lord Ilyrio doesn't like interruptions-"

"Take me to them NOW."

"Yes, ma'am."

The servant dashed away, Alysa hot on his tails as her anger changed from red hot to quiet and simmering, as her escort – now consisting of Kjelle and Laurent, seeing as Stahl and Sully had gone in search of the royal stables shortly after arrival – following rather slowly, not exactly wanting to be in the room when the encounter happened and feeling a little sorry for Gangrel at that moment.

* * *

"...as you can see, all of my villages have been attacked by bandits." Ilyrio finished with a glare. "Ayyike was completely obliterated by them last week, with not a single survivor. Yet you just sit there and claim we can do nothing? UNACCEPTABLE!"

"What do you want us to do?" Gagnrel sighed, legs slung over the arms of the throne and toying with the edge of a levin sword. "Police? We don't even have an army large enough to police our own city. I suppose we could train your citizens, but that would take too long...perhaps we should abandon the villages and make them group up int one place."

"That's the first smart thing I've heard you say in your entire life." A voice sighed from the door. Gangrel scrambled to his feet, a crazed grin on his face.

"Alysa! You made it!"

The tactician's eyebrow twitched as she walked past the table the nobles were sitting around, giving each of them a cursory glance before sitting in the smaller throne next to Gangrel.

"Uh...Alysa? You do realise that's the queen's chair?" Gangrel offered meekly, shutting up when the tactician glared at her.

"Going by what I've seen of Chrom and Sumia's interactions while she's on this chair, it's the chair someone sits on when they're telling somebody else that they're being a complete _idiot._" Alysa hissed. "Now shut up and let me think."

Gangrel chuckled weakly before turning to face the rest of the small council. "...meeting adjourned?"

The nobles nodded in agreement and left quickly, Orpheus pausing to glance at Alysa longer than she was strictly comfortable with. As soon as they were gone, Gangrel gave a sigh of relief and sank down in his chair.

"Thank the gods they're gone." He groaned. "They're all so self-centered."

"Yes, because being concerned about your people is self-centered." Alysa said scathingly, crossing over to the map spread out over the table and glancing at the various models placed on it. Gangrel walked up next to her and traced an outline across the villages.

"The man that was talking was called Ursul Ilyrio." He frowned. "He's the highest ranking noble in the country, and successor unless I produce an heir."

"Which isn't happening in a million years." Alysa shot back, smirking. Gangrel's frown grew deeper.

"Yes, well..." He stopped himself from saying something stupid, something along the lines of how it was better to never have a child than to lose one. No army in the world could have saved him from death if he'd continued that sentence. "...regardless, he's never shown concern before. Also, he's the only lord to have actively gotten _richer _since this whole mess started."

Alysa's eyes widened before narrowing again as she picked up the small bandit tokens and replayed the attacks in her head ."He's doing it on purpose. He's robbing his own people. To what end?"

"I have no clue." Gangrel snorted. "I might be depraved, but my preferred sin is Wrath. He takes Greed to a whole new level. My dear, you have a kind heart but you are a _terrible _judge of character. I guess that was always Chrom's job..."

Alysa slumped back into the second throne, massaging her temples and wiping his ranting from her mind. "Why didn't you tell me something like this was going on?" She accused, all anger gone from her head as she tried to understand the situation. "If you solve this problem, surely the rest -"

"The rest of the problems aren't problems, I could fix them myself. I'm not _that _incompetent." Gangrel deadpanned, placing a hand over his heart in a mocking gesture. "But as long as these morons keep getting to exploit the country, there's nothing I can do that wouldn't look like an attack."

"...so why didn't you tell me?" Alysa said through gritted teeth. "Stop avoiding the question!"

Gangrel gave a noncommital shrug. "I couldn't risk the mail getting intercepted. They aren't stupid. The only reason I'm bringing it up now is because I'm one hundred percent sure there's no spies here."

"How can you be sure?" Alysa hissed, rubbing a hand against her closed eyes. She could feel a migrane bigger than the one she'd had when confronted with the Valmese navy coming on.

"Because they all ran away when you broke in. The locals have taken to calling you Stormbringer, you know. Lovely name." Gangrel said with a grin. Alysa punched him in the arm, a small smile coming to her face.

"Maybe you should stop talking before I find out if I'm worthy of it." She threatened him playfully. Next to the door, Laurent and Kjelle both blinked. Remembering they were there, Alysa chuckled weakly and waved them away. "You two can leave now, we're fine."

The pair reluctantly walked out of the room as Alysa walked around the table and began talking animatedly with the Mad King, getting the identities of each lord, their territories and their motivations locked into her mind.

Then, she started _thinking_.

* * *

"That was freaky." Kjelle shuddered halfway down the corridor as they walked towards the guest quarters. "Not even _Chrom _got her that close to her old self."

"Indeed. I cannot explain it." Laurent sighed. "It must be the challenge. It's the first true diversion she's had in the last two years."

"She can't just keep hiding from it." Kjelle groaned, entering the common room and removing her pauldrons. "That can't be healthy."  
"Not everything can be solved by charging it head-on, my friend." Laurent sighed, turning his back and walking into his own room, pulling a small book out of one of his many pockets. "Some things need to be approached from different angles."

Kjelle snorted, rolling her shoulders and wincing as they cracked. "Could have fooled me."

* * *

A/N: Look, I didn't sleep and started work on it at 11, so it still technically counts as the 24th's update. There'll be another chapter later today at a REASONABLE time. Also: I really don't like writing Kjelle. Good to know.


	4. Chapter 4

**Fool of Fools**

**Rated K+**

* * *

Gangrel woke with a start, clutching his chest and breathing heavily. Glancing down, he frowned at the two-inch-wide scar running straight through his heart.

"You couldn't have picked somewhere less traumatic to run me through, Chrom?" He grumbled, before sighing and looking out the window. The moon was still up, so there weren't going to be any distractions for him to go to. "Wonderful. Keh."

Groaning, he threw on his cloak and went for a walk through the halls, rolling his eyes as he saw there weren't any guards at his door.

"It's like they don't even care if I know they hate me..." Gangrel sighed, locking his door. "Whatever. It's not important."

He wandered off down the hall, humming to himself as he went. Feeling a little like his old self again, he indulged in a grin and a little bit of a skip as he entered what should have been an empty council room.

Instead, Alysa was slumped over the desk and mumbling to herself in her sleep, twitching a few times. Gangrel frowned, he was convinced they'd both left together long before the sun had even set...what was she doing back here?

Lifting her arm off the table, he pulled out a stack of paper that had her handwriting – messy to begin with, getting worse and worse as he went on – detailing plan after plan after personality evaluation after potential reconstruction project...until at one point it was, bizzarely, in gramatically perfect Serenes. He was convinced she didn't speak Serenes, practically nobody but the most powerful mages in existance did. Most magic users only understood the basics of the language. Even then, the fact that she'd started subconciously writing in a language she didn't even know that well showed how tired she must have been at the time.

"Hmph." He put the stack down and glared at her. "Why'd you come back out, then?"

Alysa twitched violently, her left arm sweeping the map and figurines off the table. "Morgan...no...no don't...no..."

Gangrel took a few hesitant steps back as she bolted awake, screaming. The tactician glanced around what she percieved as an empty room, then started to sob into her hands.

Gangrel took a step forward, his hand hovering nervously over her shoulder, before he decided against it and quietly left the room before she'd noticed he was there.

"That bad, huh..." He muttered to himself as soon as he was clear, shaking his head. "Well, at least I'm not the only one with nightmares."

* * *

Alysa glared at herself in the mirror hanging in the guest bathroom.

"I'm a mess." She grumbled, dampening a cloth and wiping her face with it. "A complet and utter mess. Gods, get over it already woman."

She dropped the cloth back into the sink and tied her hair back, frowning.

"That's a little better." She sighed, reaching for the pack of makeup she'd borrowed from Lissa before leaving. She didn't care how she looked, but there were more...practical uses for the stuff. She used the foundation to clear away the bags under her eyes, and the mascara made her eyelids less droopy so she seemed actually awake rather than half-dead. "Well, let's go talk to the creeps. Wow, I can't believe I'm actually looking forward to that..."

She left the guest quarters with a curt nodd to Kjelle, who was already awake and doing push-ups next to the coffee table, and headed down the staircase. To her surprise, one of the nobles was waiting by the end of the steps.

"Milady. Did you sleep well?" He inclined his head, smiling. "I understand the climate can be uncomfortable for those that are not used to it."

Alysa walked past him, smiling as the noble blinked in surprise. "I assure you, Lord Haringoth, I'm familiar with this country's climate."

Haringoth inclined his head, scratching his beard as he followed her. "I am honored that you remembered my name, milady. It has been a long time since we last met, although you weren't in any state to converse with me then, so this isn't surprising at all."

Alysa glanced at him, confused. "We've met? I just made a point of asking the moron who each of you were."

Haringoth gave a sigh, bowing his head. "My apologies. I was a friend of your mother's."

Alysa froze and turned to face the man, finally geting a good look at him. He was fairly tall, at least six feet, with cropped black hair, sideburns and a goatee.

She didn't trust him.

"...you were a grimleal." She accused, narrowing her eyes. "My parents were at one point, too."

Haringoth nodded, waving for her to follow him as he walked towards the meeting hall. "I can assure you, I once made the same mistake your mother did in joining them. It was a hard time – the Exalt had all but ruined the country, and Validar assured me he could restore my family to its former glories. He claimed that Grima could make everything better."

His smile grew dark as his green eyes narrowed. "He neglected to inform me that the ritual would require the sacrifice of his own child. Your mother attempted to escape while I was on guard duty." He chuckled weakly. "Despite all my magic, I could not bring myself to stop her once she explained the situation. I always regretted not helping her further, you know. Magnificent woman."

Alysa stared at the older man, who was now smiling kindly again. "Your clothes...black. You're grieving."

"I've been grieving ever since." Haringoth sighed. "This is my penance, for all my failures. Despite all the power my studies have brought me, I neglected to help your mother...and I could not bring myself to aid you, either. I hid, and prayed to whatever gods would listen, and I joined the grimleal assault after Grima was resurrected, hoping to protect my people by placing Grima in their debt...foolish plan, now that I think about it."

He glanced out the window. "Everything I did, I did for this country...and I've failed yet again. You do intend to rebuild it, don't you?"

Alysa's shoulders slumped at the pleading tone in the broken man's voice. "I do, yes. Let's go."

Haringoth nodded somberly. "Thank you, Lady Alysa. I apologize for burdening you with my own melancholy."

Alysa chuckled as they opened the door to the council room. "Don't worry about it. Keeping it to yourself isn't good for you."

As she settled down at the head of the table and began to discuss the current economical state with Lord Orpheus, one thought found itself piercing her mind.

_Hypocrite._

* * *

A/N: AHA! See! It's still the 25th!

Long story short, all seven of the nobles are rather important, but Ilyrio and Haringoth...moreso than the others. I'm kind of scared about the reactions to him, because to be frank that's kind of a huge role in Avatar's life he's been handed right there.

Still, it let me put a goatee joke in there, so everything's good.


	5. Chapter 5

**Fool of Fools**

**Rated K+**

* * *

Orpheus frowned as he glanced at the table. His own, single village was relatively untouched and possibly the only location in Plegia still functioning as intended, which was the only reason he was on the council – Gangrel had assumed he was doing something right.

This has presented him with a difficult situation. Keep it as is, in order to reap the benefits...or cave to both the King and Alysa's demands, and open it up for fusion with the other nearby villages owned by Haringoth and Raichs?

It made sense, the three nearest villages were completely ruined. Saren may just have been a farming village, but it was providing enough food to feed all four villages and still sell some on the market if they told it to do so. In fact, with the additional manpower Saren might actually become large enough to be considered a city instead.

A fairly ramshackle city, but a city all the same.

"Lord Orpheus, we need your consent to proceed." Haringoth prodded, glancing at the younger man who bit his lip in concentration. He wasn't used to this whole backstabbing court thing yet, and he wasn't sure he wanted to get used to it.

"On one condition." Orpheus sighed, conceding the point. "Saren remains my village. The people there trust me, and it will smooth the transition."

"And fill your own coffers, too." Raichs snorted, his mustache bristling as he glared at the lanky youth. "This is preposterous, I'd loose two villages to this deal."

"You have five." Haringoth chided, smiling kindly. "The terms are acceptable, I'd gladly give Jelbegi's citizens over to Lord Orpheus if it ensures a better life for them."

Alysa nodded in approval. "Very well, so Jelbegi's citizens will join Saren. How much spare housing do you have there, Orpheus?"

The youth did some mental calculations, frowning. "We could house Jelbegi's citizens alright, but if any others attempt to come we'd need to construct shelters, which would require workers, who would need paid. Saren's agricultural, we don't make enough money for that."

Gangrel snorted. "So? If it makes jobs, the crown can pay the workers. Heck, maybe they could even come from another village."

Raichs glanced at the king. "I thought the coffers were running dry?"

"To an extent." Gangrel sighed. "I'm going to have to raise taxes in the near future if we're going to remain intact, but I've got enough to pay a few dozen builders."

Ilyrio blinked incredulously. "You're willing to reduce yourself to a pauper?"  
"I got them into this mess, I'm getting them out of it." Gangrel snapped, earning approving nods from Orpheus and Haringoth. "Meeting adjourned. Haringoth, Orpheus, better write to your villages."

After the nobles cycled out, Gangrel slumped back in his frown and laughed darkly. "_You're willing to reduce yourself to a pauper_? See? And you wonder why I don't like the guy?"

Alysa sighed and collected her papers. "I don't wonder at all, I understand perfectly." She said. "He's the one that can't comprehend good."

She kicked herself mentally as Gangrel perked up, smiling. "You think I'm a good person?"

"To a certain degree of good, yes." Alysa sighed, closing her folder and walking to the door. "I'm going to be writing to Chrom. Before he invades."

"Oh, yes, he made that threat." Gangrel frowned. "Will it get there in time?"

"Stealing one of your wyvern riders." Alysa waved as she left. Gangrel chuckled and shook his head.

"Of course you are." He paused, then frowned. If he could find out which one... "I can't believe I'm doing this."

* * *

Chrom stared in disbelief at the two letters the wyvern rider had given him. The half-page from Alysa was expected, even if it was fairly brief – something was wrong with that woman these days – yet the one from Gangrel was a solid two pages. Admitedly, the Mad King's handwriting was fairly large and he'd double-spaced it, but there had to be a limit.

Preparing himself for the one from Gangrel, he read Alysa's first, sighing as he saw it was just a summation of the actions she was taking at the current state of affairs. There wasn't even a greeting beyond the simple 'Chrom' at the head.

"Well that's nice." Cynthia blinked, smiling as she read over his shoulder. "She doesn't want you to worry!"

"That's one way of looking at it." Chrom sighed, turning to Gangrel's letter. He didn't even bother with a header saying who it was to, he just dove right into it.

_Did you know she works herself until she sleeps then wakes up sobbing?_

Chrom blinked.

_Also, hi, long time no talking, et cetera et cetera. Look, I've got no clue how to deal with this. At one point she started writing in Serenes, for crying out loud, it's not like any of us can read it. I need to know how to make her sleep for actual periods of time instead of three hours slumped over a table while twitching a lot. I thought **my **dreams were bad, that's got nothing on hers from what I'm hearing._

Chrom groaned, skimming the rest of the letter. It was pretty much the same thing, but it confirmed a suspicion he'd had for a very long time now – Alysa was a mess.

"You're excused." He told the wyvern rider. "I'll send my own messenger with the replies."

The wyvern rider hesitated before leaving. "That's it?"

"Yes. That's it." The exalt refrained from snapping at him. "You can go."

"You're not going to hit me? The last one hit me." The wyvern rider said slowly. Chrom blinked.

"...did he send you to talk to Flavia?"

The wyvern rider nodded unhappily. Chrom just snorted.

"You unlucky bastard. No, I'm not going to hit you, but get out of here before I change my mind."

The wyvern rider left the room quickly, leaving Chrom and his daughter to their own devices. Chrom turned to Cynthia, sighing.  
"Can you take her a message from me?"  
"Sure!" She grinned. "It's been ages since I've talked to Alysa, anyway!"

* * *

A/N: See? Reasonable time today. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to geek out over the new Eldar stuff and then wipe out my player's Kill Team in my Deathwatch campaign.

I statted up a Riptide Battlesuit just for this occasion...:D


	6. Chapter 6

**Fool of Fools**

**Rated K+**

* * *

Raichs grumbled as he signed off on the form for his two villages to join Saren's sudden expansion. He disliked granting Orpheus such a sudden boost in power, but a heart-to-heart with a quietly angry Haringoth is enough to persuade anybody over to the greater good.

The fact that the man was fully capable of taking on both of the bodyguards Raichs had outside without breaking a sweat and happened to be carrying a very rare and expensive-looking tome with him had absolutely nothing to do with the decision. Raichs sighed as he glanced at the form again, frowning. On the bright side, it would enrich the citizen's lives.

Gods know he wasn't like Ilyrio, who favored money over everything, or Haeda and his obsession with the military.

He would hope he was nothing like Haeda, anyway. The man was stupid enough to suggest starting another war in order to stimulate the economy. Alysa's reaction was nothing short of spectacularly explosive, to the point where Haringoth and Gangrel had to physically hold her back. Biting his lip, Raichs decided to follow the simple answer to this situation.

Just do whatever the woman says.

Smoothing out his moustache, the elderly man grabbed his walking stick and headed off to hand his letter to the wyvern riders. Of all the things that could occur to him on a walk – a _walk_ – getting run over by a young and overly energetic pegasus knight wasn't exactly high no the list of predictable problems.

Unfortunately, ever since Gangrel returned, it seemed like predictability was long since dead.

* * *

Of all the many things that Alysa expected to see upon looking up from her book when she heard the door slam open, to suddenly finding herself staring Cynthia straight in the eye was not one of them.

"Watcha dooin'?" She asked with a grin as Alysa tumbled back, yelping.

"Gods, Cynthia, don't do that." She breathed, wincing as she stood up. "You scared me!"

Cynthia cocked her head to the side and frowned, jumping off the table. "Sorry, sorry. Just wanted to know, you know?"

Alysa could already feel the migrane coming on. "What are you doing here, Cynthia?"

Cynthia pouted at her, batting her eyelashes. "What, no 'how have you been' or 'congratulations on your promotion' or that? Just, what am I doing here?"

Alysa groaned and wiped herself down. Being angry at Cynthia was like kicking a puppy – it was feasible, but you felt like a horrible person for even considering it. "I'm sorry, it's just...I'm really busy." She said, deciding to stick to half truths for now. "I haven't had much time to – oh, look what you've done!"

Cynthia's mad dash across the table had scattered the maps and tokens across the council room, ruining whatever complex plan Alysa had been thinking about. Thankfully, she'd been writing down the fine details at the time, so it wasn't a complete loss.

Still, it was highly irritating. Occasionally, the puppy _did _deserve it...that seed of resentment was banished when Cynthia grabbed her arm and pulled her screaming down the hallway.

"Come on, loosen up!" Cynthia grinned as they burst into the castle gardens, scattering several lesser servants and causing a surprised Haringoth to fumble with his book. "Even the great heroes needed to unwind at some point!"

"Actually, I think you'll find that Lord Sigurd approached his duties with utmost seriousness-" Alysa started, before a chuckling Haringoth clapped her on the shoulder.

"Isn't he the one that lost his family and died horribly? Might want to think on that." The older man left, leaving the two girls some privacy. Cynthia grinned as Haringoth shut the door behind him, probably locking it too.

"See? Even the nobles agree, and they're all boring!" Cynthia laughed. Alysa crossed her arms and glared at the girl.

"I'm too old for games, Cynthia. I've got a country to save-" She protested, before Cynthia slipped the book out from her hand and bolted across the gardens.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever!" She shouted back as the Tactician gave chase, curses eventually giving way to laughter. From his quarters overlooking the garden, Gangrel gave a small smile at the two before turning back to his own work.

"I guess that'll help, Chrom." He sighed, still disgusted that he hadn't tried to help her personally. He glanced up at Lord Orpheus, who was sitting across from him with a nervous look on his face. "Don't worry about it, personal problems. What is it you wanted, Orpheus?"

"I just wanted to tell you that the fusion between my village and Lord Haringoth's went perfectly, my lord. I assume that Lord Raich's, if he decides to agree to my terms, will also proceed as smoothly." Orpheus said. "Can I assume you will supply the paychecks for the Wercheg workers guild at some point in the future? They're getting quite restless."

Gangrel gestured to the pile of botched forms and the considerably smaller pile of successfully filled out forms. "I'm working on it now, Orpheus.

"I see. This was a genuinely marvelous idea on your part, my lord." Orpheus said, rising from his chair and bowing. As he turned to leave, he hesitated and glanced back at the king, who'd returned to signing off on the forms, a slight blush on his cheeks. "My lord, if I may be so bold, what exactly is wrong with Lady Alysa?"

Gangrel glared at him, snarling. "You may be so bold, Orpheus, but it'll get you killed if you stay that way. Get out."

Orpheus took the hint and left quickly. Gangrel slumped back in his chair and wiped his brow with one of the botched forms, frowning.

"Wonderful, now I have to deal with a lovesick fool as well." He grumbled. Hopefully he'd convinced Orpheus that any pursuits of Alysa would end badly, especially if he gave the impression that there was something seriously wrong with her.

His first thought the next day, when Alysa confronted him demanding to know where the rumors of her being completely emotionally broken came from, was that he probably should have thought this out more thoroughly.

* * *

A/N: Well, here's the 27th's update. Sorry!


	7. Chapter 7

**Fool of Fools**

**Rated T (Warning: There's a fairly disturbing death flashback towards the end.)**

* * *

"EMOTIONALLY UNSTABLE?!" Alysa screamed into Gangrel's face. "I COME BACK FROM A DAYS REST, FINALLY FEELING HAPPY FOR THE FIRST TIME IN MONTHS THANKS TO THE EFFORTS OF A _VERY _GOOD FRIEND, AND THE FIRST THING I HEAR IS THAT YOU THINK I'M _EMOTIONALLY UNSTABLE?!_"

"You're not making much of a case in your defense-" Gangrel muttered to himself, wincing as Alysa launched into a fresh tirade.

"WHAT THE GODS DO YOU KNOW?! DON'T YOU _DARE _PRESUME YOU KNOW ME!"

"Alysa, calm down." The mad king said, wincing as he cleared out one of his ears with a finger. "I can assure you, I was merely trying to dissuade Orpheus from trying to 'fix' you. I assume it elevated from there. I believed there was nothing wrong with you."

Alysa suddenly became very sheepish, and the room filled itself with an awkward silence. "...oh."

Then her face darkened.

"Why was that sentence in the past tense?"

"Because..." Gangrel drawled, mentally preparing himself for the onslaught. "...there clearly _is_."

"Really?" Alysa hissed, grabbing the king by the clasp of his cloak. "And what, exactly, would that be?"

"Well, the part that really cemented this fact would be that you come in assuming one situation instead of looking at it from all angles like you used to." Gangrel said with a crazed grin that may or may not have been brought on by oxygen depreviation. "But I've had my suspicions since you woke up crying in the middle of my court."

Alysa froze and let the king go, dropping him to the marble floor as her face went white. "You saw that?"

"Saw? I was right behind you, woman!" Gangrel grumbled as he stood up. "Gods know I didn't know how to deal with it, so I told Chrom."

"You _what?!_" Alysa slumped back into the nearest chair, hand over her mouth. "Oh, gods, you told him. That's...he didn't need to know."

"After all that garbage about invisible bonds tying you two together, and you refuse to share something like that with him?" Gangrel snorted. "Sounds like you're being one hell of a hypocrite to me."

"It's different." Alysa said weakly. "The circumstances were...it was _my fault_, Gangrel. There was no need for Chrom to get involved."

"Oh, he didn't need to, I didn't need to, et cetera." Gangrel waved a hand lazily. "But we are now, so you might want to get used to that fact."

"...It's my problem, no-one elses." Alysa said stiffly. "I'll work through it on my own-"

Gangrel's face suddenly got much closer to hers, a fierce snarl making up his features.

"On your own? Go on, then, genius – _fix yourself._ It's harder than it sounds."

Curling his hands into fists so tight his pointed nails dug deep enough to scrape bone Gangrel rose to his feet and shot a look of disgust at the shocked woman before leaving.

"You disgust me."

He locked the doors behind him, leaving the tactician to her self-pity. Scowling to himself, he wandered off to his room, wondering what in the world had almost possessed him to give the damn woman an hug and assure her it would be alright.

Gangrel might be scum, but ever since he came back he'd made damn sure he wasn't going to be a liar again. Whatever would happen, he was certain that from Alysa's point of view nothing would be 'alright' ever again.

* * *

Alysa glanced at the map on top of the table and found her hand twitching towards the box of miniatures.

"No." She whispered, looking away from the map. "No...no more distractions. Deal with it. Fix myself."

The impossibility of the statement almost made her laugh. Gangrel was right about one thing, it was hard to fix yourself. Other people were necessary – gods, look at how he was when they found him the second time. Practically suicidal, and now he's running a country that by all rights should have collapsed under its own weight now.

"Fix myself."

Alysa glanced in the mirror set into one of the many columns in the hall, shakily pulling her bangs away from her eye as she looked herself in the face and noted – from a perspective other than keeping up appearances – exactly how tired she was.

"Fix myself. Fix myself."

"Fix _what_?"

Alysa's hands shook from – exhaustion? Fear? Confusion? - something, and she had to steady herself against the wall. The reflections in the mirror changed, from her own face to Miriel's _bleeding out from a stomach wound, abandoned in the desert shortly after meeting her son_ to Yen'fay's _Reunited with a version of his sister, only to take a blow for her that same day and break her mind all over again_ to Donnel's _Killed in his first real battle, wyvern riders catching them by surprise and roasting him alive with their breath_ to...oh, gods, no, please not him - _disintegrated by Grima's breath and falling apart in her arms, layers of skin slowly flaking away and she couldn't heal him and the others were too far away and Chrom struck the final blow while she was distracted and Grima will return because she got too attached and she'll never forgive him for manipulation on that level but all she could feel was the horrifying sense of emptiness as her beautiful baby boy, who'd lived for fifteen years but could only remember six months, died screaming in agony and begging her to make it stop as he pawed at her robes with skinless hands where bones jutted out from underneath blackened flesh, and even those were stripped away. He finally stops suffering when his heart ripped itself apart in front of her, all flesh and blood blocking it from sight stripped away, and she was left clutching a fistful of ashes and a shred of his robe –_

Alysa's fist smashed forward and shattered the mirror, glass cutting her fist. She sank to her knees and sobbed into her hands, blood mixing with tears and broken glass.

"Gods. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I failed. I had to be perfect, and I failed, I failed all of you. Please..." She opened her eyes, and saw the reflections of her fallen soldiers glare at her from the broken shards surrounding her. "...I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

As she slipped away into unconsciousness, she saw Morgan in his shard give her that manic grin of his and nod.

The message was clear: _I forgive you_. Of course he would, the wonderful boy, he understood that nobody was infallible, even if he placed his mother on that kind of pedestal he'd understand her failure.

The question that had to be answered now, of course, the tiny analytic part of Alysa's brain chimed in just before the black enveloped her mind, was if she would ever be able to forgive _herself._

* * *

A/N: Well that was...extremely distressing to write. So, yeah, moral of the story, kiddies: Don't push the PTSD victim too far if they don't want to face something, because bad things happen. Anyway, I'm happy to say this is as bad as it gets and we can get on with the repairing of Alysa's psyche instead of developing how bad she actually is.

Hopefully I didn't just cause a bunch of people to be unable to sleep or anything like that.


End file.
